


Chase Away Your Fears

by Asellas



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Comfort Sex, Hanzo can actually be nice when he wants to, M/M, even if that isn't every often, jumping onto the McHanzo bandwagon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 11:50:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7169864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asellas/pseuds/Asellas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Hanzo had scooted closer till he was spooned against McCree’s back, a heavy, warm presence that calmed McCree more than he’d ever admit to the other man. The gentle rise and fall of Hanzo’s chest against his back and the quiet swish of the ceiling fan lulled him back towards the blissful oblivion of sleep. Until the flash of lightening and sharp crack of thunder split the night sky apart.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>McCree has fears, and Hanzo chases them away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chase Away Your Fears

Something jolts McCree awake. Peacekeeper is drawn before his eyes are open, hammer cocked and ready to fire the moment he detects just what it was that woke him with his heart thudding machinegun quick in his chest. A quick sweep of the room tells him that nothing is amiss, the safehouse still and quiet in the dead of night. He slides out of bed and goes for a walk-through of the entire house, noting that Hanzo was also awake and has a short blade in hand. The shorter man nods at McCree, wordlessly acknowledging that he was heading to check the living room and kitchen while McCree took the other two bedrooms.

The sweep takes only a couple of minutes before he returns to the bedroom the two of them had chosen, feeling oddly anxious and still on edge as he replaces Peacekeeper in its holster on the bedside table.

“I found nothing out of place, and the security system has not been alerted nor tampered with,” Hanzo murmurs, blade sheathed and set on the other nightstand.

“Not sure what it was that woke me,” McCree sighs, slumping back to the bed as exhaustion began to eat away at the adrenaline rush. He’d chalk it up to that in the morning he’s sure. The whole group had a rough couple of days following a botched mission and an order to split up and go to ground till the coast was clear. Tracer went with Winston, Mercy with Reinhardt, and McCree with Hanzo as they all located nearby safehouses and dug in till they got the signal to regroup. The two of them had managed to find this one after a tense day of trying to move covertly, which for McCree led to leaving three bullet-ridden corpses (there’d be arrows in them too but Hanzo had taken the time to pull them free before catching up) in an alley on the other side of town. For him it wasn’t bad, though Hanzo had snorted and rolled his eyes, muttering something about McCree’s lack of subtly. This particular safehouse was in a quiet, secluded neighborhood, armed with one of Winston’s state-of-the-art security systems and fortified construction.

Hanzo had scooted closer till he was spooned against McCree’s back, a heavy, warm presence that calmed McCree more than he’d ever admit to the other man. The gentle rise and fall of Hanzo’s chest against his back and the quiet swish of the ceiling fan lulled him back towards the blissful oblivion of sleep. Until the flash of lightening and sharp crack of thunder split the night sky apart.

This time, he knew what it was. Panic jerked him back fully awake, setting his nerves aflame with the need to _hide, hide, hide, get to ground, hide._ He could hear the sirens screaming, their sound a banshee scream to warn everyone nearby to seek shelter. He flinched as lightening flashed, illuminating the world beyond the closed curtains, and instinctively clapped his hands over his ears at the peal of thunder that followed tense moments later. The force of it shook the small house, rattling the windows in their frames. McCree had to bite down on his bottom lip to keep from whimpering as the storm began in earnest outside, lightening zigzagging through the sky to be chased by shattering booms of thunder.

Warm arms slid around his waist and chest, pulling him back flush against the man behind him.

“Breathe,” Hanzo told him, lips ghosting against McCree’s neck. McCree focused on that voice, on the warm body pressed against his back, and forced himself to let out the breath he’d been holding. He shakily breathed in, deep as he could, wincing at the newest clap of thunder. Rain was a roar outside, a torrential downpour obscuring the world in a curtain of water. The next breath was easier as Hanzo anchored him, his presence pushing away the animal panic that had nearly overwhelmed McCree. Eventually it felt like his heart was no longer trying to escape from his chest, and with the fear under control embarrassment flooded into him. McCree scrubbed his hands over his face, waiting for the snide remarks he knew Hanzo would launch at him like arrows.

“Do not worry,” Hanzo soothes, voice quiet among the harsh splattering of rain on the windows. “We were all once afraid of storms. Nature can be a fickle mistress; one moment she is sweet and kind, the next she strikes out with the fury of a woman scorned.”

“I don’t… I just….” McCree sighs, not sure how to go about what he wants to say. He’s taken aback by the comfort Hanzo provides when instead he was expecting barbs. He takes a deep, steadying breath, and tries again.

“When I was a kid, I grew up in the American Midwest, on a farm out in Oklahoma. Wasn’t a bad place, kinda boring, but it was home. The storms out there could get real bad, and I thought I had seen the worst God could throw at us, but one year… I was ten, I think. It didn’t seem so bad, we were used to how quickly the storms could come in and how violent they’d be, but this one…. This one storm was the worst we’d ever seen. I remember the sirens going off, you could hear ‘em for miles out. Mom rushes us all into the storm cellar, we could see the damn tornado in the distance, a huge, black column of destruction plowing through fields and homes. We were safe in the cellar, but the noise… like a freight train blowin’ through at full speed and an angry god roaring at you all at once, I’ll never forget it…” McCree trails off, momentarily lost in memory before shaking himself from its grip.

“When the sirens finally stopped, the noise finally gone, Mom let us out. We thought maybe the tornado had gone another direction, they could turn quick as you please and go off in a completely different direction. But, we weren’t so lucky that day. It’d gone right overhead, even tore off the outside doors to the cellar. The farm… well, there weren’t no farm no more. It was all blown to hell, as if someone’d set off a bunch of high powered explosives. The barn was naught but matchsticks and twisted metal, the house a completely lost cause.” McCree turns over and sits up, Hanzo moving to mirror him, and runs a hand through his hair.

“Ever since that one storm, I couldn’t handle them. I’ve always been terrified this would be the storm that finally gets me, like they’re hunting me or somethin’.” McCree can’t help but sigh, knowing he sounds utterly ridiculous. Hanzo is quiet, McCree unable to make himself look at the man to see what he’s thinking. He almost flinches when Hanzo touches his face, gently taking hold of McCree’s chin and turning his head to face him. McCree lets him, keeping his eyes downcast though glancing up through his lashes after a moment. Hanzo traces a thumb over a cheekbone then leans in to brush his lips along McCree’s once, then pressing them together in a gentle kiss. Warmth spreads through McCree, followed by a feeling he knows too well but won’t name out of fear it’ll slip through his fingers the moment he does.

McCree finally looks up, straight at the stoic man he’s let carve a home in his heart. Hanzo has shifted, kneeling over McCree’s lap so that they were eye-to-eye in height, a look McCree couldn’t quite place in his dark eyes.

“I could… distract you, from the storm,” Hanzo supplies, a grin lightly tugging at the corners of his mouth. McCree is slow to catch on, giving Hanzo a confused look before he’s pushed back onto the bed. Before he could voice a protest Hanzo is snaking downward, lips, teeth, and tongue marking a searing trail down his chest and abdomen to stop at his hips. He leans back long enough to hook thumbs into the waistband of McCree’s underwear and pull them down and off his legs, leaving the cowboy naked before him. McCree’s cock is still soft, the last edges of his fear yet to be chased into arousal, but Hanzo takes him in his mouth anyways. It’s an odd feeling, not unpleasant, and it only takes a few moments of Hanzo’s tongue and the barest graze of teeth till his cock is thick and flushed erect in Hanzo’s mouth. McCree groans as Hanzo sucks, hollowing his cheeks, and traces the tip of his tongue along the veins that twist along the length. He darts a fleeting press at the slit as he pulls back, circling the head with his tongue before going back down, letting the heavy length of McCree slide along his tongue as he takes in him wholly in with his nose pressed into the tight dark curls of pubic hair. Hanzo feels McCree shudder when he swallows around him, then pulls back to do a few shallower, quicker bobs of his head.

“Jesus, _fuck_ you are good at that,” McCree groans, reaching out to sift his right hand through Hanzo’s hair. Hanzo hums around McCree’s cock, eliciting a moan from the cowboy, before he pulls away completely and gives McCree a smirk. He gives McCree an appraising look, taking in his thoroughly debauched appearance before rolling off his side of the bed to strip himself of his bedclothes and rummage through his utility belt. He finds the small bottle of lube in short order and hops back onto the mattress to crawl over to McCree.

Hanzo straddles McCree’s hips, spreading his knees wide as he uncaps the lube and covers his right fore and middle fingers with slick. He revels in the intense gaze of wonder McCree is watching him with as Hanzo reaches back to rub the fingers over his hole, spreading the lube around the tight puckered flesh before pressing in. He forces his body to relax at the intrusion, sinking the fingers in to the second knuckle before beginning to scissor them, slowly stretching himself open.

“I dunno what I wanna watch more,” McCree breathes, licking his lips as he looks up to take in the almost stern, intense look of concentration on Hanzo’s face. “Your ass with your fingers buried in it, or the expressions on your face as you fuck yourself open.”

Hanzo huffs in reply, eyes narrowing as he pumps his fingers a little faster, stretches them a little further apart. He pulls his fingers loose and squeezes more lube into his hand, this time grasping McCree’s cock and giving him a few quick strokes to slick him up. Hanzo shuffles forward on his knees till he’s in position, holding McCree’s cock steady as he sinks slowly downward. McCree can’t help the moan that escapes his throat as he feels the head press against Hanzo’s asshole, the pressure heightening before Hanzo opens up and begins to take him in. He grips at Hanzo’s thighs as it seems to take forever, the slow slide into hot, wet tightness almost maddening on its own till he’s fully sheathed inside the other man. McCree tilts his head slightly to look up at Hanzo, who is watching him with a single-minded intensity that he normally reserves for targets on the battlefield. Their eyes lock and Hanzo begins to move, a slow rock of his hips that makes McCree want to slam his own up to go faster and deeper than what Hanzo is giving him. He mentally reminds himself that this is Hanzo’s show, and to let Hanzo keep the lead.

Hanzo quickens the pace after a few long moments, muscles in his powerful thighs tensing as he lifts himself to plunge back down onto McCree’s cock. He lets his eyes slide shut, lips parted as he pants quietly at the feeling of being filled, the pleasure spiked with just the right amount of pain from being just barely underprepared for McCree’s size. His own cock is thick and heavy between his legs, precum dripping from the slit as it rubs against McCree with every thrust downward. The temptation to take himself in hand when he fucks himself on McCree is an itch he desperately wants to scratch, though he keeps his hands braced on McCree’s legs behind him for leverage.

“God, darlin’, you’re beautiful,” McCree pants, his eyes on Hanzo’s leaking cock. He wonders idly if he could make Hanzo come untouched, shifts his hips slightly to let his cock press a little deeper.

“I could,” Hanzo replies, somehow managing to read McCree’s thoughts, “but it would take longer than you could last.” McCree cocks an eyebrow at Hanzo and thrusts his hips forward, guessing from the angle he should be able to at least graze Hanzo’s prostate. His guess is confirmed as Hanzo lets his head fall back and moans loudly, a shiver running down his body as he clenches around McCree’s cock. McCree hums in appreciation, letting his hands slide from Hanzo’s thighs up to his chest, fingers sliding back along ribs and thumbs pressing against Hanzo’s nipples. McCree rubs them in a circular motion, knowing just how sensitive the perky nubs are whenever Hanzo becomes aroused.

“You so sure ‘bout that, pardner? Still think you could outlast me?” McCree snaps his hip in emphasis, eliciting a hiss of pleasure from Hanzo who lolls his head back to look down at him, eyes lidded and pupils blown. Lightening flashes bright, illuminating the stark lines of Hanzo’s sweat-coated muscles in brief silvery light. McCree doesn’t even register the thunder that follows, instead overcome with the desire to see the usually stoic man come apart above him. He drops his hands back down, gripping a muscled thigh with his prosthetic hand and taking in Hanzo’s cock with his right. A couple of swipes and his hand is lubricated with Hanzo’s precum, not quite as well as the actual lube but it gave a satisfactory drag against the velvety skin that made Hanzo moan again. McCree finds a rhythm of jerking Hanzo off while thrusting his hips forward as Hanzo pressed himself down, a brutal pace that he knew neither man would last for long.

“Jesse,” Hanzo pants, shuddering and his face going slack as he comes, a quiet wordless moan falling from his lips as his cock pulses in McCree’s hand, painting stipes of come across his abdomen. McCree thrusts up hard into the clenching body above him, once, twice, then lets himself be consumed by the cresting wave of pleasure. He comes hard, stars dotting across his vision as he spends himself deep inside Hanzo. They slump together, breathing hard, till Hanzo has regained enough of himself to move, McCree’s softening cock slipping from his body with only a slight wince at the loss. He totters on stiff legs to grab two small towels from the bathroom, using one to mop up the cooling mess on McCree’s stomach while the other he tries to clean himself up as much as he could. McCree watches with a lazy amusement as Hanzo makes a face at the come leaking out of him and down his thighs, wants to laugh and offer to clean him up with his tongue but can’t seem to find the words as lethargy makes thoughts harder to form. He instead scoots back to the middle of the bed, rolling onto his right side and holding his arms out toward Hanzo.

“Come ‘ere darlin’, come ta bed now,” he croons, sleep slurring his words together but Hanzo seems to understand, tossing the soiled towel to the floor and slipping into bed. McCree gives him a sloppy kiss before Hanzo rolls over onto his right side, letting McCree pull the blanket over them and curl protectively around the smaller man. Exhaustion could finally not be kept at bay any longer, and they’re both asleep within moments.

 

-

 

In the morning they’re sitting at the small table in the tiny dining room attached to the kitchen, enjoying the bacon and eggs they found in the refrigerator. Hanzo sipped at a cup of tea, pleasantly surprised to find a package of green tea bag in a cabinet, while McCree helps himself to a pot of coffee. They eat in companionable silence, McCree watching birds flutter in the tree outside the kitchen window. The sky was clear and bright, little evidence of the night’s violent storm to be found. He looks back to see Hanzo watching him, smiling faintly as he swirled his tea in his cup.

“When I, no, when _Genji_ and I were children, he would become terrified of storms. The thunder too loud, the lightening too bright, making him think it was monsters fighting outside. He would climb into bed with me, thinking his older brother could keep him safe from the monsters,” Hanzo reminisces, voice wistful as he remembers Genji’s five year old tear-stained face pressed against his chest. “I would tell him stories that the Shimada dragons were fighting off the monsters, keeping him safe till he would forget the storm and fall asleep.” The familiar guilt for his brother stabs at him, though it was not so strong as it used to be before he had seen the man reborn as a cyborg, and he is able to look back at the memory fondly. McCree chuckles, reaching out to run his thumb across Hanzo’s knuckles.

“Well, last night worked put pretty well if you ask me. Next time, though, you could try a story. But I’m thinkin’ getting’ off in such a spectacular manner does me juuuuust fine.” He waggles his eyebrows at Hanzo, feeling like he’s won the lottery when Hanzo scoffs, rolls his eyes, and returns his grin.

McCree feels as if the next storm couldn’t come soon enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This idea wormed its way into my head into my head at work yesterday, so what better way to jump into my new favorite ship than to write some (probably not very good) porn!
> 
> My tumblr is http://asalade.tumblr.com , though I'm still very new to it please forgive me. Come by and drop me a line/ say hi/ bother me/ pester me with requests for something you'd like me to write (I love people giving me ideas). Now, I'm off to play more Overwatch, the game is trying to eat my whole goddamn life.


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